


We Should Just Kiss Like Real People Do

by Pumpkinpie473



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Boys Kissing, Burns, Crack, Fire, First Kiss, Fluff and Crack, Hurt John Watson, Kissing, M/M, Makeup, Season/Series 03, cursing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-02 19:27:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10951170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pumpkinpie473/pseuds/Pumpkinpie473
Summary: Series 3 Episode 1. Sherlock saves John from burning in that fire, but he doesn’t escape unscathed. Good thing our favorite doctor is around.





	We Should Just Kiss Like Real People Do

**Author's Note:**

> Following the events of series 3 episode 1. Obviously I used quotes directly from the show, but I don’t own these words, they belong to the creators and BBC.   
> This idea seems like something someone would’ve done and it’s probably much better than anything I could’ve written, but I haven’t looked it up so I don’t know. Hope you enjoy!

John was utterly exasperated. That damn man thought he could drop in and out of his life whenever it pleased him. 

 

John sighed and rubbed his brow. He was overwhelmingly angry. First Sherlock lets him believe he was dead for  _ two whole years. _ Two years where he lived in stagnancy and grief. He couldn’t even return to his own damned home because the memories of the detective were too poignant. He avoided 221B and Mrs. Hudson at all costs. Only recently was he able to move on in some semblance with Mary. 

 

Second, he comes barreling back into his life with that smug smile on his face and that calculative gaze in his eyes. It is driving John insane!

 

Finally he somehow manages to involve John in his dangerous  _ nonsense _ as usual. As if he wasn’t just presumed dead a few days before. How could one man be the cause of so much trouble?

 

But  _ God _ how he had missed him. He missed the excitement and even the danger. The sleepless nights, intriguing crime scenes, and running after that damned man. He missed Sherlock  _ Bloody _ Holmes. 

 

The problem was he was angry. Not just the count to 10 and get over it angry but the furiously enraged kind. The kind that makes you punch your friend in the face.So yeah, John was incredibly furious and no act of heroics from Sherlock would change it. Even so, John was willing to give him a chance because Sherlock Holmes wasn’t the kind of man you gave up on. 

 

So John made the trip to 221B to see Sherlock. Even though he was upset he knew he at least had to thank him for pulling him out of that awful bonfire. 

 

He shuddered to think back on it. The phantom smell of the smoke and lighter fluid filled his dreams and would haunt him for weeks to come. Sherlock had thrown himself into the fire to drag him out when no one else in the crowd had moved to help. That  _ son of a bitch _ was the most courageous man he’d ever met. That doesn’t mean John was ready to forgive him.

 

John made his way up the stairs hoping to get some  _ damn _ answers from the illusive man. Of course Sherlock was always one for surprises. The appearance of Sherlock’s parents was a real shock. Their simplicity and ordinariness was extraordinary in the presence of their two crazy, yet brilliant sons. 

 

Finally, the detective and the doctor were on their own. No Mar,. Mrs. Hudson, or life threatening situations to keep it at bay. So obviously it went to shit. 

 

“How are you feeling?” asked Sherlock. 

 

“Yeah, not bad. A bit ... smoked,” John played off his concern.

“Right,” Sherlock said skeptically. 

 

John decided to get right to the point.  _ “ _ Last night – who did that? And why did they target  _ me _ ?”

 

“I don’t know,” Sherlock answered honestly.

John pressed, “Is it someone trying to get to you through me? Has it got something to do with that terrorist thing you talked about?”

 

“I don’t know,” Sherlock repeated frustratedly, ”I can’t see the pattern. It’s too nebulous.” He turns to his wall of clues, seemingly lost in his big brain. 

 

John sighed. “You’re just the same Sherlock,” John said angrily. ”You only care about the case. Do you not care that my life was at stake. That whoever caused this somehow got a hold of Mary? You can’t just bloody say ‘I don’t know!’”

 

“I’m not a miracle worker John! I can only deduce the clues when they are given to me, not before. I’m sorry your miniscule brain can’t process that!” Sherlock raised his voice and began waving his arms around frantically trying to articulate his point. 

 

In a fit of rage, which peculiarly only came up whenever Sherlock was around, grabbed Sherlock’s hand to stop his obnoxious pointing. As soon as John’s hands wrapped around Sherlock’s palm Sherlock flinched heavily. John quickly released him.

 

“What’s wrong with your hands?” John asked in a dangerously quiet voice. 

 

“I haven’t any idea what you’re talking about Watson. Still jumpy from the campfire?” Sherlock said bitingly. That didn’t distract John from noticing the way Sherlock was hiding his hands behind his back.

 

“Sherlock” John bit out. He was done with this. Done with Sherlock. Done with this idiot man who thought he could just jump in and out of his life as if John doesn’t even matter at all. John has had enough of Sherlock’s bullshit. 

 

“You are the most infuriating man in the world!” John yelled as he grabbed Sherlock’s arms. He shook Sherlock saying, “I cannot believe you” John started his rant, but did not fail to hear Sherlock’s soft gasp of pain as his hands were jostled.

 

John immediately became concerned. Sherlock was never one to openly express weakness and this tiny slip of sound could only mean he was very injured. John reached down for Sherlock’s hands but he twisted them out of sight before John could get a glance. 

 

“I’m fine,” Sherlock said with menace in his voice. John knew better. He leveled Sherlock with an unimpressed look. “Do I need to call Mrs. Hudson?” 

 

Sherlock raised his eyebrows in response, but still would not show John what was wrong. John grew tired of waiting for Sherlock to break and decided to just make a grab for his hands. For once, Sherlock wasn’t expecting it, or perhaps he wanted John to discover the truth. Finally his hands were exposed. 

 

Sherlock’s hands looked  _ terrible.  _ His palms were severely blistered and red. He clearly had severe burns, possibly third degrees, littered all over his hands. How he wasn’t reacting more to the pain was beyond John. 

 

John took a shocked inhale of breath before looking up and locking his gaze with Sherlock’s. “Why didn’t you  _ say  _ anything?” John implored. No matter how angry he was at Sherlock he would never be so cruel as to ignore his need for medical treatment. 

 

“It’s fine” Sherlock assured with a confident tone. He was trying to wrench his hands away from John’s prying eyes. John held steadfastly as Sherlock struggled and winced through the pain. 

 

“Damn it, Sherlock! These need to be treated by a doctor,” John frustratedly yelled. 

 

“Well good thing there’s a doctor here,” Sherlock quipped back. 

 

“How did you even take care of yourself without me?” John muttered venomously. John looked over his hands again and decided to go grab his doctor’s bag. “Sit down, shut up, and wait here.”

 

When he got back, Sherlock was actually where he left him. He must have been in more pain than John had thought, or perhaps John actually  _ scared _ the man (wouldn’t  _ that _ be something). John pulled out some gauze and disinfectant and began working on cleaning the wound. Sherlock stayed silent, but the pain must have been intense as John attempted to sterilize the wound. 

 

“You should have told me,” John insisted.

 

“I didn’t want to put you out anymore than I already have.” John tore his gaze away from the injured hands to stare at Sherlock. 

 

“It’s not ‘putting me out’ to ask me to check on a potentially dangerous wound. Also, I’m glad to see you alive, I just wish I could have known sooner. I just don’t know  _ how _ to forgive you right now,” John explained. Sherlock gazed into his eyes. Suddenly the two men broke eye contact. 

 

As he pulled away, Sherlock’s cheeks were tinged pink. “I don’t expect forgiveness. I just thought you’d be happy to see me,” Sherlock admitted. 

 

“I  _ am _ happy to see you, idiot!” 

 

“Well you have a funny way of showing it! First punching me and then not being appropriately grateful when I saved your life”

 

John was in shock. “You complete and utter arse, I cannot believe--”

 

John was cut off mid sentence by Sherlock’s lips crashing against his. John’s eyes fluttered closed as he took in the sensation, slowing responding to the kiss. 

 

Now wasn’t this just a  _ mess _ _!_ John was mind numbingly angry with Sherlock for faking his death, was in a sort of serious relationship with Mary, and  ~~ was ~~ used to be certain that he was perfectly straight. Now all that was being called into question because of this infuriating man. Every time John thought he knew the rules Sherlock made some kind of exception. Yet he wasn’t actually all that opposed to this exception being made for Sherlock. 

 

Slowly they broke apart. Sherlock smirked at the confused look on John’s face. “I missed you too,” Sherlock said. 

 

John may not known exactly how he felt, but he knew he wanted to feel it again. This time John slammed his lips together with Sherlock’s in a passionate kiss. He could feel Sherlock’s smirk against his lips. This time when they broke apart they were smiling widely at each other. 

 

“This doesn’t mean I forgive you” John stated matter of factly. Even if he was feeling more lenient towards Sherlock, especially since he’d injured himself saving John, that doesn’t mean he was going to suddenly forget the years Sherlock left him to grieve on his own. Even now when he felt his unending fondness and, dare he say it, love of Sherlock grow stronger by the minute. 

 

“Alright” Sherlock said with a slight smirk on his face as if he already knew he was forgiven. And maybe he was already forgiven deep inside John’s heart, but Sherlock didn’t need to know that just yet. 

 

John sighed exasperatedly.  _ Damn this man.  _ He finished tying the gauze around his hands and dragged Sherlock to bed. He could worry about what all this meant in the morning. John rested his head peacefully on his pillow with Sherlock curled behind him.

 

“I don’t like the mustache,” Sherlock whispered as they lay together. “Shut up!” John exclaimed as he closed his eyes. 

 

For the first time in a long while John had a restful night. 

~*~*~*~

 

“I see you’ve shaved it off, then” Sherlock commented the next morning as he took a long drag of his tea. 

 

“Yeah. Wasn’t working for me.” John mentioned casually. He had his back to Sherlock as he got his own cuppa. Sherlock didn’t have to see the blush spreading across John’s cheeks. 

 

“Mm, I’m glad.” 

 

“What, you didn’t like it?” John turned around with a raised eyebrow. 

 

“No,” Sherlock smiled, “I prefer my doctors clean-shaven.” 

  
  
  



End file.
